Passion
by Tracy137
Summary: Lucius Vorenus is mourning Niobe, Titus Pullo is in a dangerous situation. One woman, reluctantly snared in their lives, saves them both. But who will win her heart, the honourable man or the warrior? Possible TPOC. Rated for language. WIP.
1. The Roman and the Gaul

**_Disclaimer: I don't own "Rome" or any of its characters. The TV series is the property of HBO and the BBC. So there is no copyright infringement intended, nor do I intend to tick anyone off – so please don't sue me, I'm poor enough already! If you do sue all you end up with is a rust bucket car, and a load of rescued pets with attitude problems that make Pullo look like a teddy bear. But I do own the story itself and the characters of Afia, Decimus and other non-"Rome" types. :O)_**

**_The Arverni's were a very powerful tribe inhabiting what is now the region of Lyon in France, and gave their name to the area Auvergne. They were violently opposed to Roman rule and the most famous of them, Vercingetorix, led the revolt that Julius Caesar put down in 46BC. It is to his tribe that Afia belongs._**

**_This is my first "Rome" fanfic; it is based on the 2005 TV series. I do not intend to rip off any other writer (but as there doesn't appear to be any stories logged yet, I'm hoping I haven't). But if I digress from the series a little, don't shoot me as I'm old and the brain (what little I have) is not what it used to be. Plus I might also change things to fit the story a little better –sorry; but that is what artistic license is all about! LOL!_**

**_I finally managed to watch the end of the series recently, and decided I didn't want to wait until 2007 to find out what happened next. So here's my take on what followed after the final credits rolled on the last episode. My story is concerned more with Titus Pullo and Lucius Vorenus, rather than all the historical elements that take place as well in the series (though they will be mentioned and such characters _might _appear); it's going to be dramatic, romantic as well as fairly funny…in places anyway….. It is nothing but fluff, so if you don't like romance and stuff please don't read it! _**

_**All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please; and I will try to update regularly.**_

'_**Thoughts'**_

"**Speech"**

_**Anyway…on with the show!**_

_**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

**_ROME:_**

_**Passions**_

**_Chapter One – The Roman and the Gaul_**

The woman trotted her horse along in the fading twilight, but heard the raucous laughter of men; she knew enough to know that sound did not bode well. She slipped from her horse and, leaving it tied to a tree, edged closer to the clearing where the sounds emanated from.

She was dressed almost as a man, but the warrior was actually a freed Gallic slave; still, she was deadly even though it had been a while since she had had a fight.

She saw two of them raping a young woman, who barely moved let alone struggled; whilst two others repeatedly beat a large man lying on the ground. Both looked dead.

She sighed, common sense told her to go on her way – but the Arverni in her hated the injustice of the fight, no enemy can fight fair whilst trussed up like a pig, and so it over-rode her logic and she went in blades already pulled and deadly.

The men leapt up off the girl, the others spun round and all four grinned evilly "Fresh meat lads!" the leader leered.

She stared at them placidly and, as they fanned out to surround her, rolled her eyes. As one rushed her she thrust one blade into him, and the other into a second on her right. She pulled her blades loose and, dropping to one knee, flicked one before her and one aft, stabbing the other two.

Once again she pulled her blades free and quickly went and finished all four, making sure each was dead she then went to the other prone figures; all the time keeping her eyes flicking around the clearing.

She checked the girl for breath and a heartbeat, both were terribly shallow. She cut both figures loose, and found both had fevers. The man was fighting, the girl was not.

"Eirene..." he whispered.

The woman sighed and petted his head, then moved to the girl. She checked her breathing and heartbeat once more and found them shallower than before. She pulled a dagger and spoke for the first time "find your freedom little bird, for this cage holds your spirit no longer. Go forward to peace."

She drove the blade deep into the still form's heart just as the man opened his eyes "_NAY!_ Eirene! Nay!"

Dark eyes flashed at him and she held the bloodied blade to his throat "Hush, do you wish to bring every bandit forth!" she sat lightly on his chest, causing him to gasp as broken and fractured ribs flexed "Stop it! She was dying, what would you have me do! I am no torturer – I could not aid her live, so I helped her die! She is free and at peace; if you wish to mourn, mourn for yourself for you are the one left here to suffer! Now be quiet, or I will send you forward with her!"

He lay still, but his eyes blazed as he hissed "I _hate_ you!"

"Aye, well, you will not be the first and doubtful the last; so forgive me if I do not fall apart with grief." She glanced at the dead girl "I will go and bury her as best I can."

He nodded already overcome with tiredness from his brief outburst; she sighed and rolled her eyes _'by the Goddess, what possessed me to bother?'_

She buried the young woman as well as she could rocks and stones and then went back and dragged the other corpses out into the wood. The animals could do what they would with the men's carcasses, scum like that were of no consequence to her.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

She tended the sick man for three days, knowing it would be pointless to try and remove such a giant as this by herself. Finally he regained consciousness again "Eirene?"

"She is dead; what is your name? Where do you hail from?"

"You killed her."

"Nay, she was already dying – I merely hastened her end to save her suffering. I cannot believe you would have had her die slowly if you cared so much for her?"

He hesitated but finally agreed "Nay, I would not."

"So, what is your name, where do you come from?"

"Titus Pullo, and I come from Rome."

"You are a roman?"

"Aye, what of it?"

"Naught, we all have our crosses to bear – being roman is yours." She shrugged.

He could not help the smile; she arched an eyebrow at him "Careful Titus Pullo, your smile is showing."

He took in her attire "you look like a man."

"Nay, I merely fight like one – I am all woman everywhere else."

"What is _your_ name and where do _you_ hail from?"

"Afia of the Arverni."

"You are a Gaul!"

"Aye, I am a freed slave – but my old master was a good man; there is trouble in Rome since Caesar was murdered, and I wish to go help him escape the city."

Pullo tried to rise, but fell back with a groan "Caesar cannot be dead! My best friend guards him! He would not abandon his post; unlike me, he is an honourable man!"

"None the less Caesar _is_ dead and Rome _is_ in chaos." She thought for a moment "Mayhap your friend is dead."

"You say that like it is a good thing!"

"It is if he died in battle."

"I forgot you Gauls are always so concerned with honour."

"Oh and of course you were not defending his but a moment ago?"

"Shut up woman."

"Ah definitely a Roman, when losing an argument bark an order."

Pullo rolled his eyes "Typical Gallic wench – when meeting a _real_ man they feel threatened."

"Really? Well, when I meet a real man I will bear that in mind."

Pullo couldn't help it – as much as he missed Eirene – he laughed out loud. "Help me up; I need to aid Vorenus, if he lives he will need this old warhorse."

"Stay where you are, this old warhorse cannot move for another day at least."

"He will have need of me!"

"If you insist I believe you; however you will be of no use to anyone if you perish before you reach him."

He shut his eyes with a groan muttering about bossy Gallic wenches.

0-0-0-0-0

The next day, as promised, she helped him mount her horse before hauling herself before him and they began the journey back to Rome. She did not appear to fear it as some women would; but then with her hair shorter than the norm and her mode of dress, she could easily pass for a male unless you looked closely and saw her ample breasts only just disguised by her loose fitting clothes and rough armour.

However, bristling with weapons as she was (2 daggers, 2 swords and a bow) he doubted anyone would get close enough for such an inspection. Naught like his Eirene, who was soft and pliable and good; who did not have it in her to kill, not even one such as he that had killed her betrothed, and instead had forgiven him. He sighed as he thought about the now vain hope that she might one day have to come think much of him.

"What are you thinking?"

"What?" she sparked him out of his reverie.

"I hear the waterwheel that is your brain creaking – you must be thinking; a rare feat for any Roman, but especially a Roman soldier."

He almost spluttered with outrage "woman you press your jest too far!"

"Ah, mayhap you forget that I am healthy and armed to the teeth, and you are sick and without weapons?"

"I can fight with my fists well enough; I have killed with my bare hands!"

She glanced down at the large hands that rested loosely at her waist "I do not doubt that Titus Pullo; but I am still smaller, fleeter of foot and better armed and I too can fistfight – having four brothers taught me well."

"Four brothers? Where are they now?"

"Dead, along with my village; but that is the will of Rome for you." she shrugged, but he heard the dull tone to her voice.

"You miss them."

"Aye, but much good may it do me – mourning does not bring the dead back; it merely makes it harder on the living."

There was a pause "I miss Eirene."

"I am sorry that she died, I see she meant much to you. But it was better to finish her suffering quickly than to let her linger on in pain."

"Was there really naught you could do to save her, or were you just concerned she would slow you down?" he did not mean it to sound as harsh as it did; but he realised he had said too much when she suddenly dropped from the horse and yanked him off too, before rounding on him as he hissed at the pain his ribs still gave him.

"If I had been so worried Roman, I would have sent you forward also! Instead I wasted four days tending your stupid hide; and even now still bother with you, when my poor nag would fair fly forward without your hulking great carcass weighing him down!

I spared the girl suffering, she was still dying and there was naught I could do to spare her life; indeed she had given up the fight to live, if there was even such fight there in the first place! She was not Arverni, she was not Gaul, she was not _any_ race that has fought to survive, she was only a _female!" _she fair spat the words "and I will not listen to you continue to bleat on about her!" with that she punched him so hard in the face he saw stars and his nose started to bleed. "Now get on the damn horse and _shut up_!"

He got back on, with her help, before she once more she mounted in front of him and they rode in silence.

0-0-0-0-0-0

By nightfall he was fair driven mad by her silent treatment but had refused to crack first.

She had gathered firewood and set the fire whilst tending her horse, herself and finally him – in that order. She checked his wounds and injuries, applied some foul smelling salve to various points and then retreated to the fire. She had spoken not a word to him nor looked at him when he tried to gain her gaze.

She suddenly disappeared for half an hour, to the point where he was about to try and rise to seek her out; feeling stupid for not wishing to be alone – but then she came back with two dead rabbits; still she did not speak to him as she skinned, gutted and cleaned them before putting them on the fire.

In the end he was almost grinding his teeth in frustration "You know, ignoring me is not very clever."

"I am sorry Roman, did you speak or did my horse just fart?" she arched an eyebrow at him.

"I was just saying ignoring me is not very clever, I…."

"Oh but _I_ am not very clever am I? I am just stupid a stupid Gallic wench – a _murderess _even, for I did not waste time and energy prolonging the agony of a young girl you _say_ you cared for."

"I do not _say_ it, I did!" he was getting angry now "I did care for her very much!"

"Yet you wished me to keep her alive a little longer! For mark me Roman, she _was_ dying, there was naught could be done for her – they had all but raped her to death! She had long given up the fight to live; I only set her spirit free." She sighed in irritation and tossed him some rabbit "shut up and eat; leave me alone."

She shuffled away and over to the far side of the little fire. He sighed and ate the rabbit, hearing Vorenus berate him in his mind "Pullo you fool! You look a gift horse in the mouth! The wench saves your life and here you are making an enemy of her and you hardly able to stand, let alone protect yourself!"

He smiled, he missed Vorenus – he hoped he was not dead. He hoped this rumour the Gaul was acting on was all talk – he knew his friend would not desert his post like that; whatever happened the one constant he knew was that Lucius Vorenus was a truly honourable man. He sighed again, he would not let such a friend down – he would do right…..for once he would do as Vorenus would do. "I am sorry Afia; I did not mean any offence."

"Again a typical Roman, you offend without even bloody trying!" but he sensed the jest in her tone and smiled.

"Aye, and like a typical bloody Gaul you take offence at every word!"

"Shut up Pullo." She tossed him some more rabbit and grinned.

He returned the smile – so it was Pullo again, then he was forgiven.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Back in Rome the husk of the man that had once been Lucius Vorenus, wept in his bed – oblivious to all about him as he mourned Niobe.


	2. Reaching Rome

**_Disclaimer: As Chapter One; so please, for the love of _God, _do not make me keep writing it out people!_**

**_The Arverni's were a very powerful tribe inhabiting what is now the region of Lyon in France, and gave their name to the area Auvergne. They were violently opposed to Roman rule and the most famous of them, Vercingetorix, led the revolt that Julius Caesar put down in 46BC. It is to his tribe that Afia belongs._**

_**All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please; and I will try to update regularly.**_

'_**Thoughts'**_

"**Speech"**

_**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

**_ROME:_**

_**Passions**_

**_Chapter Two – Reaching Rome_**

During the night a blinding pain struck his head "OWW! Dammit!" he peered round in the dark, as his eyes adjusted he saw her kneeling over him and aiming her fist at his head once more.

"Oh, good – you are awake."

"Aye, it is surprising how even a soldier cannot sleep through someone trying to crack his skull!"

"Well, yours _is_ so thick I had wondered if only _one_ blow would wake you – looks like I lost the bet."

"What is it? Or did you just fancy taking up where our friends of a few days past left off!"

"Stop snoring!"

"_What_?"

"Stop._Snoring_. I swear to the Gods, you are making enough noise to bring forth every bandit and vagabond from here to bloody Alexandria." She rolled her eyes "What is it with Romans? You snore like the dead."

"The dead do not snore."

"Keep it up Pullo, and you will be proving that point wrong."

He stifled the smile as he watched her walked stiffly back to her bedroll, there was something about the way she moved that had piqued his interest "I am cold."

"What am I supposed to do about it? We are in the middle of nowhere if you had not noticed. I am only a freed Gallic slave, not some kind of miracle worker."

"Are _you_ not cold?"

"Aye, but I am obviously of hardier stock than you, for _I_ do not bleat about it."

He ignored the jibe, and instead turned on the charm "Well, should we not huddle together – we could share out body warmth?"

A stone hit his head "OWWW! Vicious harpy!"

"Keep those dirty thoughts to yourself Pullo!"

"Where is hugging together for warmth a dirty thought?"

"You are a roman soldier – it goes with the territory; now shut up and go to sleep."

He huddled under the thin blanket to sulk.

She waited until she was sure he was asleep, before creeping over and tucking herself against him and into his arms, pulling her blanket over his. She smiled; indeed this _was_ better, it was like being hugged by a large warm bear………she pulled a dagger; after all, even cuddly bears had teeth.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Pullo woke in the dawn to find a warm, soft body in his arms, and firm buttock pressing into his lap; his arms were wrapped about a pliable body and he could feel breasts under the thick clothing. Nature took its early morning course……..suddenly a dagger was at his throat "If I were you I would persuade little Pullo to go back to sleep." Afia murmured "for he will not be having any fun _this_ day."

"Look, _you_ came to _me_, remember! Anyway, I cannot help it – it happens to all men and every morning."

"I came for warmth as you suggested; and if it does then tell it to have a morning off."

"I will try…" he sighed and tried to think of anything but the woman he was holding and what he would like to do to her….which at this moment was anything but kill her.

"Try._Harder." _she hissed.

"Can we _not_ talk about things being hard." He groaned "and stop wriggling, you are _not _helping."

"I cannot help it, there are……._bits_ of you are digging in my bloody hip! Goddess, it feels like a club!"

"I have never had any complaints." He smirked and then groaned, any other retort dying on his lips as she continued to squirm around "Stay still, for the love of Juno, stay _still._" He grasped her hips with his hands to stop her moving.

"It….it is _prodding_ me!"

"If you just stayed still, it would not!"

Finally she stopped wriggling; he sighed and tried to think of anything but taking her, making her sigh, making her…..."PULLO!" a bone crunching fist hit his cheek as she turned round.

'_Aye that would work too; pain….always a winner!'_ he thought as little Pullo retreated out of harm's way.

She rolled him over so he had his back to her front this time "I think we should sleep this way from now on. That way I will not have to kill you."

He smiled, even as he nursed his jaw – feisty little thing she was!

0-0-0-0-0-0

It was another two days before they made it to Rome. Two days of arguing, insulting and, Pullo was surprised to admit, laughing. He missed Eireni, he did, but life was for the living; and, as Afia said, what point was there in mourning overlong? It did not bring the dead back.

As they entered the city Pullo could see that Afia had not been mistaken; the panic in the streets, the notices everywhere showed Caesar was indeed dead – which brought forth the question what in Hades had happened to Vorenus?

They made their way to his house; Afia slipped from the horse and walked it along "What are you doing?"

"I fight better on my feet than on horseback – and these people are mad with panic; I cannot protect you stuck up there."

"I can protect myself well enough."

"Aye, that is why I had to kill four men to free you."

He rolled his eyes, he had already learnt he rarely got the last word with this Gallic harpy – and now was not the time to try again.

They finally found it…….but there were men ranged outside. She dodged back behind the wall "There are men guarding the entrance."

She helped him down "How many?"

"About eight" she did a mental tally "I _could _take them, but it would be difficult."

"You jest!"

"Hush! Do wish to fetch them to us? Nay, I fought Rome with my brothers and my chieftain Vercingetorix. Mayhap we lost, but we took many of your men with us."

"Aye I know, I fought there too; you were vicious."

"Aye well, the only good enemy is a dead one I reckon."

"If aught has happened to Vorenus, it is likely they are Mark Anthony's men."

"Nay, they were not dressed as soldiers, more like common men – not even men of note." Before he could stop her she turned back "Take care of my horse, do not let the rabble take him."

Then she strode off, pulling her swords as she went………..suddenly it occurred to Pullo who the men were and he tried to stop her "Wait! WAIT, Afia!" but she was not listening, he tugged the horse after her "you daft wench! I know who they are!"

0-0-0-0-0

For her part she rounded the corner and strode confidently to the men "let me pass!"

Pullo hurried up behind her, towing the reluctant horse, as Timon stepped forward "Why should we? Who are you?"

"I am Afia of Gaul – I am…….aiding Titus Pullo" she jerked her head at him, knowing he would follow her, fool that he was "he is seeking a friend and brother named Lucius Vorenus – he says he lives here."

"A Gaul? Are you a slave?"

"Nay!" she bristled, her swords twitching "I am a freeman. My master freed me, but that is naught concern of yours. I only wish to deliver Pullo to Vorenus and be on my way, I have my old master to save."

Pullo ranged behind her "hello Timon; it is good to see the old Thirteenth are still together. But what is occurring that you need to protect the new Senator's house?"

"PULLO!"the mercenary and itinerant horse trader grinned "Good it is to see you old friend – she is a little demon is she not? Where did you find her?" he looked around "where is the other, Eireni was it not?"

"It is a long story and I would be glad to tell you, but what has happened?" he nodded at Afia "she says that Caesar is dead? What of Vorenus, he would not desert Caesar, surely?"

"Bad times old friend, bad times are upon us." He looked up and down the street "let them enter, I will go with them – if any others come call me."

They went in…………

"Where are all the people?"

"They left when Caesar died and Mark Anthony came looking for Vorenus."

"What happened Timon?"

The other man sighed and indicated they sit down "I am not sure old friend – it seems that some mischief was played on Vorenus by an enemy of Caesar to get him out of the way. It worked and the end result for him is a dead wife and being left with her bastard son."

"He killed her? He killed Niobe?" Pullo could not believe it, he knew the other man doted on his wife.

"Nay, she panicked at his temper and threw herself over that railing up there." He sighed as he indicated the place the woman had jumped to her death. "That was over a week ago and since then he has only eaten and slept enough to live, beyond that he weeps. She was buried at her sister's behest – but there was not much love lost between them, even though they apparently tried to be close again, as the wife's lover was her sister's husband it seems; and so the sister has quit the city."

Pullo nodded "So where does Mark Anthony enter the story?"

"He is baying for Vorenus' blood – he feels he betrayed Caesar, we cannot reason with him; the man's own guilt at not saving his commander and friend is not helping matters. So we came to protect Vorenus ourselves; Mark Anthony will not upset the veterans of the Thirteenth, for there isa real fear that the legion itself could join us. Vorenus has much respect, as do you, especially after that debacle in the arena."

"Where is he?" Afia sighed, now was not the time for idle gossip.

"Upstairs."

She rose in one fluid movement and stalked towards the stairs.

The two men watched her go "Where did you find her?"

"I did not, she found me." He rose also "Come, we should follow her – I will tell you as we go."

So as they followed the Gallic woman, Pullo filled his old comrade in on the short version of what had happened to him and how he had lost Eirene.

As they reached the room where Vorenus lay inert on the bed, hugging one of Niobe's dresses, Timon turned to Pullo with a grin "trust you to land on your feet you old dog!" but then he sobered "though I am sorry the girl perished for she seemed a pleasant little bird; but the Gaul is right, to have let her linger would have been cruel.

In truth Pullo you would have broken such a fragile blossom as Eireni had been; nay, you need one such as the woman before you. Rough, ready and a fighter, someone with a bit of spine in them; I saw how she defended you when you got here – she is more your sort. The only thing is if you survive long enough to have her!"

The two men chuckled as Afia glared at them "Whatever the jest, shut up whilst I deal with this one. Goddess you test me, why I am always stuck with oafish men and fools?"

"You have a way with you?"

"Aye Pullo, you are probably right; for does not your presence bears testament to that – an oaf and a fool in one!"

Pullo rolled his eyes as Timon laughed out loud "she must _always_ have the last word."

"Aye, and here's a few more – go find some food and fetch his children" she rolled up her sleeves; exposing vicious scars up both arms that caused both men to look askance, though she seemed not to notice "they mayhap may help bring him to his senses, otherwise it is back to the old ways."

"Old ways?"

"Aye, being dunked in cold water and slapped is a good way of making an idiot see sense!"

"His wife is dead!" Timon bristled.

"Aye and who is he aiding to act like this? Or is this a new way to bring the dead back? If it is, speak Roman and I will join your friend; for there are many I would like returned to me."

"See what I mean?" Pullo sighed.

Timon went to find the children "Stay Pullo, I fear what one with such a temper would do to the man if you are not here to stop her."

"I have felt her temper, what makes you think I would bother?"

The veteran walked off chuckling……now Pullo was back, all would be well. It looked as if the crafty Roman had finally met his match in the Gaul too; he had a good feeling about the wench though, she would help and between them all they would sort this sorry mess out…….preferably before Rome fell or they all ended up dead.


	3. Negotiations

**_Disclaimer: As Chapter One; so please, for the love of _God, _do not make me keep writing it out people!_**

**_The Arverni's were a very powerful tribe inhabiting what is now the region of Lyon in France, and gave their name to the area Auvergne. They were violently opposed to Roman rule and the most famous of them, Vercingetorix, led the revolt that Julius Caesar put down in 46BC. It is to his tribe that Afia belongs._**

_**All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please; and I will try to update regularly.**_

'_**Thoughts'**_

"**Speech"**

_**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

**_ROME:_**

_**Passions**_

**_Chapter Three – Negotiations_**

Afia stalked up to the inert Roman laying on the bed "Oi! Get up you lazy sod!"

Lucius just ignored her "Niobe, Niobe!" he sobbed into the dress.

Timon came back with the children "Take them away – take _him_ away!" he yelled, pointing at the small boy "they lied, they _all_ lied – and _he_ is the reason I am here!"

Afia turned to the girls and the boy "have you food?"

Vorena, the elder daughter, looked askance at her father "nay…we have not got much." She turned to him "She bid us lie, she told me that you would have us all killed if you knew the truth!"

Afia patted her on the arm, as Lucius waved her away "it is alright, I will allow him a few more hours to finish grieving and then I will make him face you. Fetch what food you have and we can try to find more later." The girl looked relieved that someone was taking charge of more than just fighting and trotted off.

Just then there was a commotion outside and there were shouts for Timon and Pullo to come forth. Afia went with them – outside the gates stood Mark Anthony and his guard.

There was a stand-off until Afia pushed her way through and faced off the Roman commander as well as the Thirteenth veterans.

"Has there not been enough bloodshed? Even as famed warriors, you must all be tiring of the bloodletting by now?" She then turned to Mark Anthony himself "My lord, what is it you wish?" she dipped her head…slightly.

The Roman was taken aback by the forthright woman before him. She was no great beauty, bigger and more robust than a roman woman, none the less he could see she had spirit and her garb and weapons marked her out as a warrior – a Gaul by the looks of her; still she was attempting to be respectful, no easy feat for a proud Gaul, so he humoured her.

"I have come to have Lucius Vorenus put to death, he….."

"I have heard of his failing my lord." She turned and shushed the veterans and Pullo. "But I bid you enter so I can show you that killing him would be more mercy than you would wish to show a wretch such as he."

She pushed through the veterans – Pullo could see she had a plan, as could Timon, both quickly twigged what it was……..Timon smiled, he reckoned her scheming could give Atia a run for her money if she'd been born a connected Roman.

However, once inside four of the Roman's men rushed her – she despatched them in the same fashion she had the bandits that had attacked Pullo.

Mark Anthony stood open-mouthed "I am surprised we routed the Gallic armies with warriors like you in their midst."

"Gallic tribes cannot fight together – Roman legions can. We had not the discipline you did." She wiped her blades and stowed them "I hope you will now call off your men?"

"Aye, I have only a small guard – I cannot have you laying waste to more." She showed him up the stairs to where Lucius lay, almost mindless with grief.

"As you see, he has lost his reason. He barely eats or sleeps, he spends every moment whether awake or asleep in torment it seems. His children despair of him; I have only been here less than 1 hour and I want to punch him."

"His wife?"

"She is the cause of this. It seems she had an affair with her brother-in-law, her sister's husband, and had a son. When Lucius returned she passed the babe off as her elder daughter's." Mark Anthony raised his eyebrows "Aye, well, I would not – but she was desperate no doubt."

She sighed and continued on "should you wish to sit lord?" Mark Anthony took a chair and indicated for the others to do so as well, making sure that Afia sat near him; Timon saw Pullo bristle slightly.

"Pray continue….what is your name?"

"Afia of the Arverni."

"A fierce tribe."

"Aye and I am the last I think….the last freeman anyway, my master freed me – and it is for him I have come. I happened on Titus Pullo in a bit of bother, and that is how I come to be here."

Mark Anthony regarded the large roman "Then you are indeed fortunate to have such an able ally as this, Pullo."

Pullo smiled tightly and Timon put a hand on his arm; all knew their commander's appetite for women, but Timon reckoned this wench could more than hold her own.

"Your old master, would I know him?"

"Mayhap lord – Decimus Andronicus; a trader, though he did have dealings with high born families such as yourself."

"Aye, I think I have heard of him. I will try to locate him for you and advise you of his whereabouts."

Afia dipped her head, though all could see being this respectful to a Roman was hard "Many thanks my lord. Should I continue about the wretch before us?"

"Aye, do."

"Well, as the boy is about 4 years now I can only assume that it has been a well kept secret for all that time. Then one day, the day Caesar was murdered for I know naught else to call it, someone told him the truth. Lucius lost his mind and came back here to confront his wife – she panicked and threw herself over that railing there." She added, for effect "he learnt only hours later that Caesar had been so brutally butchered, and the full weight of his actions were brought to bear." She dipped her head as if in sorrow before looking at the Roman once more "truly I say to kill him would be a swift release from the torments he is suffering every moment of every day."

"A swift punishment is not what I had in mind – mayhap to let him live would be worse?"

"I think so my lord for even if he did, perchance, recover his senses the guilt will remain for all eternity – a permanent stain on his honour; and, so I have been told, he is a deeply honourable man."

"That is indeed true, I agree that I think it would haunt him." He sat and thought for a moment "Aye the punishment would better fit the crime. He is to live, to live with the consequences and guilt of what he has done."

He turned to Timon, Pullo and the other veterans "she is a master negotiator as well as a consummate warrior." He smiled at Afia "it is as well you were not in control of the armies of Gaul – not only would we have doubtful won the war, but peace negotiations would have probably lost us Rome to you as well."

She smiled gratefully and dipped her head "You are too kind my lord. I am only grateful I was lucky enough to have a good master who finally granted me my freedom."

"Aye and I will keep my word to find him for you if I can." He smiled mischievously then "but you did kill four of my best men and, sadly, that cannot go unpunished."

There was a rumble around the veterans, but he saw her face change not a bit – except look mildly interested "I know, I know, men – I dislike the rule as much as anyone, but it is a rule and as such must be upheld."

He appeared to think for a moment "still, they were _my_ men so I can be allowed to pick the punishment." Another pause "I am putting you in charge of Pullo, Verenus, the children and such – in fact all that come here for refuge are now yours."

_That_ got a response "I am a bloody warrior – not a _nursemaid_!"

He stifled the laugh at her indignation "Aye, and I would offer death as an alternative….." he looked around and then back at her "but I believe you would take it."

He could see her bite her lip until it actually bled and thanked the Gods he was so important – otherwise he would be in fear of his life "as my lord wishes" she intoned in a way that meant anything but that.

"He does…" he turned to take his leave "I think I punish all of you as much as she – for she has a temper Hades would value." He left chuckling at his own joke.

_She_ spun on Pullo "Honestly! You are to be the bane of my bloody miserable life! Now I am _stuck_ with you – sodding _all_ of you!" she turned on the veterans "Well, he says you have to be here, and I want no bloody others coming – go fetch your families, but leave one place free for my old master; and we allow no one else entry."

She stormed off with Pullo behind her "Why is it _my _bloody fault – _you _are the one who killed his men!"

"What was I supposed to do Pullo, stand there and let them kill me!"

"It was an option!"

"Aye, the one right after I kill you first!"

Vitus turned to Timon "Why do I get the feeling our Pullo has finally met his match?"

Timon grinned "because he bloody has, and who would have thought it would be with a Gaul?"

0-0-0-0-0-0

Two hours later Verona, the elder daughter, came with her younger sister and half brother. "Thank you for helping my father."

"I have done naught yet. Mark Anthony's arrival stayed my hand on dragging him back to the land of the living."

"Aye but without you there would have been a fight, and we might have all perished as well as our father."

"Well, you are welcome – but come the time when I am being hard on your father, you might not feel so grateful."

"You cannot be too harsh with him."

"Why not?"

"He has treated us badly this past week, not least him" she pointed to the boy "he treats him as evil and the fault was not his."

"Aye the child is blameless all can see that. Still I will see what I can do on all fronts, does that appease you? What are your names?"

"I am Verona the elder, she is Verona the younger and he is Lucius."

"Your parents called you both the same name, and your brother by his….um…by your father's name?"

"Aye."

"Not very inventive were they?" The girls smiled "Well, it does not matter that the boy is named for your father. But you two….I will call you Rena" she pointed to the elder daughter "and you Vorry." She indicated the younger "that way we can tell you apart; agreed?"

"Aye." Rena did not mind, it sounded grown up. Vorry did not mind as it sounded cute.

Afia turned to the bed as the children filed out "right!" she marched over "now you listen to me and you listen good – I do not give a flying fart about what happened; this Niobe is dead and you are not. So get your fat arse off of that bed and start living, because I am now _stuck_ with your sorry behind and _I_ am not putting up with all this sodding weeping and wailing!" she prodded his shoulder "it has been over a week - she is dead; live with it, deal with it and _move on_!"

Red, swollen and bloodshot eyes regarded her "how can _you_ know wench! You are a _Gaul_, a _slave_! How can _you_ understand my loss!" he hugged the dress "Niobe, Niobe!"

She slapped his face…._very_ hard. "I mayhap be a Gaul and a _freed_ slave, but I am still flesh and blood, Roman – I lost much, _all_ in fact, and at the hands of your Rome! I mourned my family, my betrothed – oh I mourned _much_ that your kind took from me, but I did not let it kill me!" she eyed him scornfully "but mayhap a Gallic woman is stronger than a Roman soldier?"

He finally looked properly at her and glared "Aye, you do your fellows here a disservice methinks; strong men all, and you weaker than a foreign _wench_!" She spat on the floor in front of the bed "Pathetic!"

She turned to Pullo "I will not waste my time on this babe any longer, if he wishes to pine to death like a sick puppy let him." She snorted derisively "he has added enough of his weak blood to Rome's" she gestured to the children "best he dies and adds no more."

Timon went to speak, to warn her that Lucius had leapt from the bed to attack her; but he need not have bothered – she brought her fist up and back, knocking the man backwards; then spun round to face him and drew her daggers "tangle not with me Roman, for you _will_ lose; I killed four of Mark Anthony's men this day – you will be of little sport for me."

He fell to his knees "my fault, my fault….all my fault!"

She put away her blades and the men could not believe the change as she stooped and hugged him, her voice soft and caring "nay, nay – she took her own life because of her shame. Naught you did caused it Lucius Vorenus, Pullo tells me you are a good and honourable man – he puts much stock on you, and I can see why now. Come, come to bed and rest…." She handed off the dress and he did not protest as she huddled him down and drew the coverlet over him.

"You never spoke gentle like that to _me_." Pullo moaned.

"You never needed it." She turned to Timon "he will recover now, but it will be slow. Though that is good, if he regains his mind too soon Mark Anthony may change _his_ mind about letting him live. Mayhap even when he is fully better he can pretend to still be broken if we see the commander?"

"Aye, that is a good point and a better plan." Timon smiled "you would make a brilliant general; none of us would have done any of this."

"You are forthright men and women are generally more crafty and sly."

"Aye, and you the worst of all." Pullo added feelingly.

"If I could reach your head I would slap it!"

"Grateful I am then you cannot." he grinned...she kicked his shin.

"Oww!"

"Be grateful I did not kick aught else." She turned and walked back to the sleeping Lucius "come children, come sit with your father – he will have need of you now."

Timon turned to Pullo "she is a rare one."

"Aye, it is not often such a demon escapes Hades."

The mercenary walked away laughing.


	4. Vorenus & Decimus

**_Disclaimer: As Chapter One; so _please,_ for the love of _God, _do not make me keep writing it out people!_**

_**All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please; and I will try to update regularly.**_

'_**Thoughts'**_

"**Speech"**

_**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

**_ROME:_**

_**Passions**_

**_Chapter Four – Vorenus and Decimus_**

Lucius Vorenus raised his head off the pillow and turned to see Pullo staring at him "why will she not leave me _be_?"

"Because you will not get up."

"I harm none by being here."

"Nay, but you irritate her – and she irritated is _not_ a good thing."

Timon came in "Will he rise this day?"

Pullo shrugged "I know not as yet."

The mercenary horse trader rolled his eyes at Lucius "if you do not rise soon Vorenus, she will permanently pin you to that bed with her bloody swords – even an oaf such as I can see you are sorely trying the little patience the woman has!"

"Is she _very_ mad?" Vorenus eyed Pullo warily; he had learnt to dread the approach of the Gallic harpy even more than visits from Mark Anthony.

Indeed his discomfiture at the woman's presence had only caused an increase in the commander's visits, so he could witness the pain and suffering she was heaping on him. At least that was what Mark Anthony told them when he'd turned up, with only a small guard, for the twelfth day in a row.

"Aye, that she is….._very_." he grimaced in irritation "not least because Mark Anthony has just arrived _again_."

"Oh Juno!" Vorenus groaned and buried his head under the coverlet.

"Will you get _up_, you pain in my arse!" Afia approached with a highly amused Mark Anthony in her wake.

"I wish to mourn my wife."

"Well you can bloody mourn her from a _chair_, because that bed is stinking and pretty soon will only be fit to be _burnt_! Now GET._UP_!"

But he merely groaned and rolled away, Afia raised her eyes to the Heavens "I swear on all the deities that if I _do_ burn that bed you, my Roman arse pain, will be _in_ it!"

He studiously ignored her; before she could launch another tirade, even Mark Anthony took pity this time and drew her away "I have found your Decimus" he smiled.

Her face lit up and he realised that she was quite a pretty little thing for a Gallic slave "Really! Is he well, is he hurt! How is his wife, his other slaves! I hope naught has happened to him!"

He held a hand up to stay the battery of urgent questions "Aye really; he is well, not hurt at all; She too is well, his slaves seem well enough - though I cannot say I took much notice of them. Nay, naught has happened to him."

Without thinking Afia flung her arms round his neck "oh thank you sir, thank you! Oh he was so kind to me, and it is _such_ a relief to know he is safe!" She suddenly realised what she was doing and leapt away from him colouring "I am sorry lord, sorry…..I…."

He smiled and tilted her chin, before murmuring "It is alright Afia, I only wish my slaves were that fond of me that they would travel far and hug strange men to save me."

Pullo for his part gripped the spoon he was endeavouring to feed Vorenus with a little harder (the man still unwilling to eat unless forced); but smiled slightly as Afia moved further away and out of the commander's grasp.

"Nay lord, I am sure they would – but he is a good man, and I would like to repay his kindness."

"Well, I will bring him here this night…..if that is agreeable to you?" he smiled as she beamed once more.

"Aye, lord – it is _most_ agreeable."

The commander took his leave promising to be back by dusk with Decimus Andronicus.

As she made her way over to the rest of the Thirteenth veterans, Pullo jeered "moving up in the world are we?"

Timon rolled his eye at Vitus, but Afia studiously ignored him and called Rena over "Rena do you wish to eat pork this night?"

"We do not have any."

"We will when I gut that large fatted _pig_ over yonder." She pointed at Pullo; the rest of the veterans and their wives laughed loudly as the large Roman ground his teeth. _Always_ the last bloody word!

0-0-0-0-0-0

A little after dusk, as promised, Mark Anthony returned with Decimus and his slaves. Afia flew forward and was enveloped in a large hug by the old man "_Decimus_!"

Mark Anthony turned to his second "Ye Gods, if I had a greeting like that from her, I would never leave her behind me!" the roman soldier smirked.

"My dear child I gave you your freedom so you could return to Gaul, not come trailing after an ancient wretch like me."

"I was on my return to Gaul, when traders told me what had happened here – I had to return to find you."

"I understand my old carcass has got you into much mischief?"

"Nay not yours, _theirs_." She pointed wearily to Pullo and Vorenus "but enough of the idiot oaf and the weeping babe; Where is……."

"Afia? _Afia!"_ an older woman came in, as again the young Gaul flew forward.

"_Drusilla_, my lady! You look well, _are_ you well? I have come to take you away to safety!" She hugged the woman then scrutinised her.

Mark Anthony looked on with longing "why do my slaves not greet me so?"

"You have not freed them sir?" the second offered.

"Nay, even then I doubt they would be this loyal or loving." He shook his head "I had my pick of the Gallic slaves, did you know that? Only Juno knows how I missed this one!"

She sat with the Roman couple and Mark Anthony for over an hour, regaling them with amusing stories and anecdotes that had the commander's laugh echoing loudly around the courtyard.

Titus Pullo sat with Lucius Vorenus and ground his teeth. All who could see his face knew this night would not end well………..they were right; Pullo just couldn't find a way not to upset the wench.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Afia never felt comfortable with Mark Anthony, but with Decimus and Drusilla with her she felt better. She became more a lady and less the Gallic warrior that the man knew; he knew they had no children and now guessed that the woman had been treated as a daughter by them.

When they gave her her freedom it was the freedom one also gives to a child, to go their own way in the world. But like a loving child Afia had returned to find and protect them; judging by the couple's obvious delight it was clear this was not expected.

He had heard of this, Romans who took slaves in and treated them as family – but it usually ended badly. This was the only occasion he knew of where the slave had, whether knowingly or unknowingly, adopted the family themselves and sacrificed much for them. He knew that by fixing her with the veterans as he had, not only would this vixen keep them out of trouble (well, as much as anyone could), but she would also remain where he could watch her……until he felt able to coax her to his bed.

Normally he would just take what he wanted; but he was not a fool and quickly realised that to do so this time would bring the rage of the Thirteenth veterans, and possibly their legion comrades, down on his head – no woman, however alluring, was worth _that_; any other time he would have risked it……but now, with Rome in disarray as it was….nay, he would wait and bide his time.

She had turned to Decimus "so I said "oh Pullo, why must you so sorely deprive a village somewhere of its idiot."

They all fell about and then Mark Anthony made his excuses and got ready to leave "Afia, walk with me." She immediately looked uncomfortable once more, but did as she was bid.

"How fares Vorenus?"

"Not well, you see how I struggle to get him up – he has stopped weeping and wailing; now he just lies about; we even have to feed him. To tell true I do not know which is worse – the silence or the noise. At least with the noise I did not need to keep prodding him to ensure he lived."

"I see – and what do you think of Pullo?"

"Pullo?" she thought for a moment "he is a good man; oh a bit of a rogue admittedly, but he has a good heart if he but bothered with it. Though in truth I often wonder about feeding him to the pigs he so resembles them much of the time."

The roman chuckled "Vorenus?"

"I know not what to make of him myself; though Pullo has told me much of him and says he is an honourable man and incredibly loyal, he thinks a lot of him. So based on Pullo's tales I think he too is a good man."

"He deserted Caesar."

"Nay, he did not know what was about to happen – if he had I think, from what Pullo has told me, that he would have buried his rage, hurt and disbelief about his wife and some how coped until he knew his leader was safe." She sighed "he barely copes with the grief that he failed so many people."

"Aye, well – and what make you of the Thirteenth veterans?"

She smiled "I like them all, Timon especially – they are good men and served Rome well, I am happy to be responsible for them all; even Pullo and Vorenus."

"You still plan to quit the city?"

"Aye, now Decimus and Drusilla are here – I hope that we can get our things together and be gone sooner rather than later."

"Where will you go? There are many….."

"I know not lord; I do not think for a moment that all the veterans will wish to leave, but I am sure that some will want to come. Then there is Vorenus and his family, and Pullo of course….." she looked thoughtful "but the Goddess is always good, and I am certain all will end well if it is destined to do so."

"Your words sound calm, but your eyes belie your worry." He murmured.

"Well, I must then ensure my eyes follow my head….."

"Not your heart?"

"Nay lord, I followed that but once and it ended badly – but that is another story for another time, for there is no jest in it and it does not end well." She stepped back.

"Well, I will endeavour to see you again before I leave….." he turned, but her hand stayed him.

"I am sorry to bother you my lord, but I have a boon to ask of you."

"Aye, I am listening?"

"I wish to deal with the slave that dealt such a blow to Vorenus….she caused much mischief, for yourself as well as he.

I cannot deal with the one who sent her, she will be beyond my remit, but not yours I will wager – but the imp that set the match to the tinder I can……repay." Her eyes glittered dangerously, and once again Mark Anthony offered up a silent prayer of thanks that he was not the one to spark the ire in them.

"That is no boon, you will be saving me and young Octavian a job; in fact, it should be rewarded on many levels……." He thought for a moment "I will return tomorrow morning, early, and I will furnish you with the details you require – I will think of some suitable reward………"

"I wish to remain here with these people my lord – it would be a reward indeed to enter your household, but I gave my solemn vow to protect the children and help the others; as well as Decimus and Drusilla, so I would not be able to take up such a generous offer if it was made."

She kept her eyes lowered, but he tilted her chin up and smiled widely "am I that transparent to you?"

"I…ummm…." For once Afia was at a loss for words.

"Never mind, I will think of something else then….that does not mean you leaving them." He cursed himself for showing his hand, yet could not see how he had done so; she was a wily one though, on that he had no doubt.

He took his leave and she settled the roman couple into their quarters, finally Pullo cornered her "played your hand well, did you not wench? Got him all but begging for it now!"

The stinging slap caught him off guard, but it was the sudden tears he could see pricking her eyes that surprised him most "you know _naught_ about me roman! You know _naught_ of my life – I would rather fall on my swords that let some stinking roman touch me ever again!"

She started to walk away but added, without facing him "I would fight him as I fought the others, right to the last – you understand!" then she stalked away; stiff backed with anger, and hurt radiating off her.

He understood, he definitely understood – had he not done the same? By the Gods, he felt terrible now; never had before, always considered it the spoils of war - but now….but _now_……he felt unclean, filthy…the dirty pig she'd implied he'd been before. Though that was a jest, but not now…._now _he felt….bad.

As he went to follow her, a cup whistled past his head "stay away roman!" she hissed.

Timon caught his arm "what have you done _now_?" Pullo told him of what he'd overheard and what he'd said "You _oaf _Pullo! She is a canny one and headed him off – her opting to stay with us rancid lot shows she is not leading him on….Gods for such a womaniser you know naught of them do you?" he sighed and rubbed his face "she is _deeply _pissed off at you, so I think discretion is the better part of valour, as Atia is always saying – retreat now and try again on the morrow."

Pullo nodded and sloped off to bed sulking. Timon shook his head "dolt!"

0-0-0-0-0-0

Afia was about to stalk past Vorenus' bedroom to get to her own little cubby hole (due to not enough rooms and too many people), when the roman called out to her – the first time he had spoken unbidden to any since they had all arrived.

"Does he vex you overmuch?"

She came across; too angry to be shocked "he is an _un_thinking, _un_feeling _brute_!"

He patted the bed and she sat "nay, unfeeling he is not – trouble is, Pullo feels too much. Though unthinking I would probably grant you." he smiled.

"You like him…."

"Aye, he is much to me I admit – we have been through battles, wars and scrapes of all sorts……." He sighed.

"You saved him…from the arena, he told me of it."

"Aye, but the thing is I know he would have done the same for me. I know, if the dice were cast he would help me – look at now, the way he dragged you along with him to get back to aid me." He shook his head "nay he is a dolt and speaks with his mouth before his brain can think, but he is a good man."

"Then you know him better than I." she sighed "he infuriates me and drives me to the point where I wish only to kill him and dance on his corpse, but then he will do something that makes me laugh and I merely roll my eyes in exasperation."

Vorenus took her arm "welcome to the world of those that know Titus Pullo, we all feel like that."

She chuckled "you are a good friend to him Vorenus."

"Well, we are good friends together – he is the only one who can make me laugh; so judge him not too harshly, alright?"

"Aye, I will try – but another crack like the last and his head will be seeing his feet from a new angle." She regarded him and felt his temple "how fares _you_?"

"Slightly better – I may yet live, though the guilt weights heavily on me."

"Did you push her?"

"_Nay_!"

"Then you have naught to feel guilty over – except mayhap the children, none are at fault; not even the boy. _She _led your daughters to believe you would have them all put to death should you discover the truth, and as for the boy – well, he cannot be blamed for his own birth, can he?"

"You are wise beyond your years Gaul."

She chuckled quietly "I have been called many things in my life, but wise is not one of them."

"How come you to be such a consummate warrior? Timon and Pullo were telling me of the exploits they had witnessed." He lay back and regarded her.

"Ah there by hangs a tail – short version is my father had four sons and a daughter, but in reality wanted five sons only……he made do with the daughter. I was a boy in all ways but the obvious ones." She chuckled "I loved him so much and he loved me not at all." She shrugged "the Goddess tries us, of that I am sure."

"What is the long version?"

"A story for another time – mayhap I will tell you on the morrow, if you are sincerely interested in this freed Gallic slave's boring life before Rome and war came?"

"I am….." and he was; she intrigued him….a lot.

She got up and left, patting his shoulder "you are not so bad when you are normal" and Vorenus smiled – the other roman would suffer with her on the morrow as he did not think she was that quick to forgive, and it would be good to watch……..it would also be good to find out more about the little Gallic vixen in their midst.


	5. Silent Treatment

**_Disclaimer: As Chapter One; so _please,_ for the love of _God, _do not make me keep writing it out people!_**

_**All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please; and I will try to update regularly.**_

'_**Thoughts'**_

"**Speech"**

_**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

**_ROME:_**

_**Passions**_

**_Chapter Five – Silent Treatment_**

It was with great anticipatory delight that all now residing in Vorenus' building (as they now thought of it) saw Afia stomp out of her bed the next morning; but they were swiftly disappointed as she did not launch a full assault on the hapless Pullo as they'd expected.

In fact she completely ignored him as he made his way towards her; instead she went to see Decimus and Drusilla.

It was much, much later, after she had continued to studiously ignored him all day, that she was in the kitchen preparing the evening meal when Vorry begged her to sing "I heard you humming and you have a pleasant voice, it might make little Lucius settle…" she indicated the little boy who was sleepy and fractious.

Afia shook her head "I do not sing Vorry – it is just not something I am good at."

"But you _are_ – please sing, _please_? I will help you with the food, and Rena will too – will you not sister?" she looked encouragingly at her older sibling.

"Aye, and there are not too many around……most have gone out until the food is cooked, you know what they are like." Rena nodded.

"We will not tell either…" Vorry continued to plead.

Afia sighed knowing them well enough already to know they would not give her a moment's peace until she gave in.

"What shall I sing?"

"What was the tune you were humming this morning? That sounded good" Vorry asked.

"Ummm…….ah, I know the one you mean, the one I was humming when I was mucking out Antarah?"

"Aye, that one."

"It was one my brother, Anis, taught me" she cleared her throat and began to sing:

"Though I have to leave you far behind me,  
My love remains at heart alone with you.  
No matter what it is the battle brings us,  
Our love will forever see me through.

I cannot fear the call of death's loud summons,  
For you I will always linger still.  
Beyond the reach of that dark spectre's hand,  
I know that I can defy it's will.

Our love is stronger than death or time,  
From you I will not part.  
You are the one the Goddess sent,  
You rule my very heart.

My soul is yours and death must wait,  
Until your time is near.  
Then we can cross the veil together,  
I will not pass on without you here."

Her voice rang out clear and strong, echoing around the building and courtyard; drawing more than a few towards her – not least Vorenus and Pullo.

Decimus looked outside "She has snagged the interest of a few it seems."

"Aye and it would appear she is oblivious as always." Drusilla shook her head.

For her part Afia's face showed triumph when she saw Vorenus out of bed "go strip the bedding, before he goes back" she muttered to Rena. She turned to him and helped him to a seat, brushing past Pullo as she did so.

The large man closed his eyes and sighed, he had quickly learnt on their trip here the silent treatment from her was not good. If she raged and swore at you, was sarcastic then you were safe; but if she ignored you then you had either hurt or angered her deeply – this time he knew he had done both, he was only surprised she hadn't tried to kill him as he slept.

She went to fetch his friend a cup of wine and some bread; Vorenus offered "You sing well."

She smiled at him "and you are almost as good at untruthful flattery as your commander, Mark Anthony."

He laughed, then frowned – she stroked his cheek as she gave him his wine and bread, her face full of sympathy "it is not wrong to laugh you know."

"I feel guilty – like I should not ever laugh again."

She sat down opposite him "I was the same with my family. It is hard but you can recover" she nodded at the children "what of them?"

He glanced across "what _of_ them?"

"Should they be made to suffer for what happened?"

"They lied and he…he…." he stumbled on the words as he looked at the boy he thought was his grandson.

"They obeyed their mother in fear of death" Afia cut across him "and he is only a child whose sole crime is merely existing. He looks like your girls; if you tell everyone your wife died and he is yours none would contradict you."

He looked horrified "there are many here who know different."

"Aye, and they will not speak of it. I have to say Vorenus that having worked for Romans I understand the working of their hierarchy; and in the grand scheme of things your sad predicament has now served its purpose. Apart from your suffering amusing your commander you are no longer of any interest to them."

He sighed knowing she spoke true "What of all of us?"

"I am responsible for you."

"What does that mean?" he frowned.

"It means that Mark Anthony has made me responsible for all that you do and you yourselves – not just you, but all the Thirteenth veterans and….." she sighed and looked heavenward "Pullo too."

"But why?"

"I killed four of his guard the first time he came here; in truth he makes me..." She hesitated "...uneasy."

"Why?"

"He is a roman, more he is a roman dignitary. I have had roman soldiers take me, I fought them….but still……if he decided to…." she tailed off before adding quietly "of course I would fight but…."

"So you wish to leave before he decides to take you away?"

"Aye, but that means taking all of you."

"When?"

"I have some business to finish here first – a wrong to right and then we leave. Of course where we go is another matter. I do not think Gaul is a good idea; eventually my people will fight back; now Caesar is gone most conquered nations will sense a weakness however transient and start to revolt – any roman settlers in those lands will be butchered."

"I have some farm land – of course a house will need to be built, and if any number accompany us then a few houses will be needed…but….we _could_ go there?"

"Really? You would allow the Thirteenth to follow you…you would allow…._me_?" she looked hopefully at him.

"Aye, why would I not? Both you and they have done all you could to protect and help me."

She touched his shoulder in thanks, smiled and then bid him eat "I will if you sing that song again – I find it…….soothes me." He smiled.

She sighed but did as he bid her; when she had finished she heard clapping and spun round to see Mark Anthony "you sing wonderfully Afia!" he exclaimed with a large smile.

"And you master the art of pointless flattery very adroitly, Lord" she dipped her head even as she rolled her eyes.

He laughed out loud "You have a sharp wit!"

"Aye mayhap I have Lord, my father would often say I had no need of a blade with a tongue so sharp."

He saw her warily eyeing the young blond man next to him "this is Caesar's nephew Octavian. He wished to come and thank you personally for what you are going to do."

The young man stepped forward and Afia dropped a curtsey though the boy noticed that her head dipped only a little. "You have no need of thanks my lord; I am righting a wrong on two families." She looked at him squarely "I take it the one out of my remit will be dealt with?"

He nodded "We will deal with her, it will be easy enough….."

"I would suggest my lord, that killing her is not the best course. I take it you and your family have suffered due to her betrayal otherwise why would she do it?"

"We have."

"Then may I suggest my lord, you make her suffer in like fashion?" her voice was cold and Octavian had to resist the shudder that threatened him. He felt she could be utterly ruthless on a whim.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning take away those she loves, but let her live on whilst they die. Her long lonely life after knowing her duplicity has caused the death of her loved ones, especially any that might be actually implicated in Caesar's demise, would be a special torture indeed."

He nodded, seeing the truth in what she said "you are cold Afia."

"Aye, I have learnt much in the art of revenge Lord." She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.

"Why do you do this for us?"

"Caesar was as good a leader as Rome could hope for. He cared what the people wanted; he cared what they thought…" Octavian went to speak but she went on "his motivation was his own I am sure, but the outcome was that his people did well from it. He did not deserve to die the way he did." She thought for a moment "in battle; aye, a warrior's death would befit him more."

As she spoke proudly Mark Anthony stifled a smile at the warrior in her surfacing once more, and Octavian was strangely touched at her thoughts of a man who had basically been responsible for the subjugation of her people; he said as much.

Afia merely shrugged "to the victor go the spoils. He won, we lost – he cannot be blamed, even though my tribe are the most opposed to roman rule……..at the end of the day Lord, he ended up trying to do the best he could – for himself and his people. That is no reason to be assassinated."

"You have no other reason?" The boy questioned.

Mark Anthony looked on and wondered if she'd be honest with him about Vorenus or whether she would leave it at that.

She was honest; "Nay Lord, she destroyed more than one family – Vorenus here lost much and all because she knew he would not forsake his leader lightly. Nay, there has been much mischief played out here and it needs avenging, otherwise there is no deterrent to dissuade others from following such folly again."

Octavian nodded as she added "and I would remove all her faithful servants; kill them so there is no hope she can get them back, to ensure she knows how isolated she is."

"You speak true Afia, would you be willing?" she nodded "you speak with such conviction also; but my uncle and Vorenus were no friends of yours, so why wish to avenge them?"

"My people are fair, and a wrong is still a wrong – Caesar wished to do right by his people and Vorenus seems an honourable man."

"I see." He stepped away from Mark Anthony and drew her with him "I like you – you remind me of Pullo and Vorenus, and despite what _he_ says" he gestured at the older roman with him "I like them a lot." The boy sighed "you must leave sooner rather than later – he is much taken with you, and it concerns me. But should I ever have need of any of you three again……"

"Then send out word with any of the Thirteenth and we will come." She smiled and for the first time it reached her eyes. "You will be a great leader Lord, your uncle would be proud."

He genuinely smiled then and furnished the details she needed, donning her swords she left. They followed her keen to see how she did.

0-0-0-0-0-0

They returned two hours later, Octavian pale but resolute; Mark Anthony grinning and Afia covered in blood.

"The rest my lord, is now up to you."

"You gutted her like a pig and then beheaded her" Octavian murmured "yet with the others you slit their throats only – why, and why did you kill them face to face and what did you say?"

Afia shrugged "she was the betrayer, they were just a means to an end; she _deserved _to suffer, they did not. They all had a right to see who was killing them – I told them all why they were to die, it was only right."

Octavian nodded and then drew a parchment out of his cloak and spoke loudly "this is for you and all those here – I give you all your freedom, and to your offspring, in perpetuity."

Afia gaped "my…my lord, that is most generous."

"Nay Afia, you have done me and mine a great service here today – my uncle would have done no less in my stead." He patted her arm, before wiping the blood he got on his hand on his cloak.

"Additionally" he drew another parchment from the cloak and spoke loudly once more "I give you all land that corresponds with Vorenus'" amid the general hubbub he turned to Afia again "that way you can remain together and you will not be forced to break your word to Mark Anthony here." He smiled at her; knowing that if she had done so, the wily roman commander would have used that as an excuse to take her as 'payment' for the default.

She dipped her head and thanked him once more as those around them whooped and hollered. As he went to leave Octavian turned to her "I would leave soon, the one concerned will want revenge."

"We will Lord; but any she sends after us will die if they try to carry out her bidding."

As they left, Mark Anthony looked deeply annoyed; he knew the boy had deliberately put her beyond his reach. Just because Octavian loved the pleasure of books over the pleasure of the flesh, he did not see why _he_ had to lose out. Still, he had bigger fish to fry right now; she was probably rubbish at knowing how to pleasure a man of his stature anyway – far too bloody honourable.

0-0-0-0-0

The men were thrilled that they were finally to get the land they'd been promised – for Afia, she was only glad that she'd never have to fear slavery ever again.

As Timon and the others danced around and begged her tell them how she killed "the traitors" she just smiled and played down her part in their good fortune.

Vorenus and Pullo looked on; even as she continued to ignore the latter until she retired to bed; Pullo realised he had _really_ cocked things up this time. Suddenly he yearned for her to ridicule him, nag him..._anything_ but ignore him.


	6. Moving On

**_Disclaimer: As Chapter One; so _please,_ for the love of _God, _do not make me keep writing it out people!!_**

_**Sorry for the delay in replying to your reviews, but my e-mail has been down for a few weeks due to my service provider so I've had to rely on looking at my stats every few days. Additionally, ill health and hospital visits have also delayed updates in this story and some of my others.**_

_**I will endeavour to ensure that I get my head in the game from now on and update more regularly. :O)**_

_**All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please; and I will try to update regularly.**_

'_**Thoughts'**_

"**Speech"**

_**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

**_ROME:_**

_**Passions**_

**_Chapter Six – Moving On_**

The next day the contrite roman approached her sheepishly, and not a little warily, as she helped prepare breakfast; all were still in delight about the news the day before, so the others pretended not to notice the large roman centurion gingerly approaching the smaller Gallic wench. Pullo smiled hesitantly "Morning Afia."

She did not even spare him a glance as she growled moodily "Sod off Roman – I am still angry at you."

He pulled her to one side, a hurt look on his face "I _am_ sorry Afia, truly."

She looked at him levelly "I do not believe you even know _why_ you are sorry, Roman."

"I _do_" he replied emphatically, before adding "I am sorry because I know I hurt you and made you angry."

"Why do you say such things to me?" her eyes pricked again with tears and she sighed "I have done naught but help you, and you always try to hurt me."

He tugged her further away from the others "I do not mean to, it is just that…you and the commander….he likes you…and…"

"But _I_ do not like _him_!" she hissed, her eyes flashing angrily.

"Aye, I know and I _am_ sorry."

She rolled her eyes, but was beginning to relent "Juno, one day I _will_ kill you Pullo – you will drive me to it, I _swear!_ Anyway, you need not worry about _him_ any longer; what Octavian said yesterday has put me out of his clutches."

"You do not hate me any longer?" But he knew she did not, he was back to Pullo again.

"Nay" she slapped his head with a sigh, but also a small smile had crept onto her lips.

"What was that for?!" he gasped indignantly, but was secretly pleased to note the smile.

"Consider it on account, for I doubt this will be the last time you will make me want to kill you!" she chuckled and wandered off shaking her head.

"You like her?" he turned to see Decimus watching them.

"Is it that obvious?" Pullo asked ruefully.

"To all but she…..and your friend." he pointed to where Vorenus approached her a little apprehensively. "If you wish her for your own, you must act quickly."

"She would not have me" the other man sighed "especially not if she can choose _him"_ he nodded his head at Vorenus " he is honourable, kind, just; all the things I am not. I am hot headed, violent, passionate…."

"All the things _she_ is" Decimus smiled indulgently at the Gaul "and you _are_ honourable, otherwise why come to the aid of your friend? You put yourself down overmuch Pullo; whatever you were in the past, that was then and this is now. Try to put that behind you and start afresh.

You will be a man of means now; you will have land…..start again. Try to get her to see you in a different light." He paused "if you do not….well, then mayhap Vorenus _will_ win her."

Pullo turned back to see her chuckling with his friend, sharing some joke about the children – little Lucius running round her legs, and the two girls trying to get them to intercede in an argument they were having - for all the world they looked like a happy little family; Pullo had never felt more miserable.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Two days later all was in place and the band of people began their move out of the city; along with many others who were all fleeing the coming bloodbath they knew would follow the death of caesar. Pullo could see Afia was tense; in fact all could see it – most avoided her, but Pullo and Vorenus didn't; the former because he didn't want to, and the latter because he was concerned for her.

Both stayed close to her, but she didn't seem to notice at first – finally Pullo dragged her to one side "Afia you keep on barking orders like that and not only will they kill you, but _I_ might mistake you for a Roman."

She dipped her eyes at the jest and sighed "I will be glad when we quit the city Pullo."

He knew why, but still wanted her to say; "why is that then?" he asked innocently.

"I do not trust Mark Anthony – you were right, he did seem much taken with me; but _I_ do not reciprocate his feelings and I wish to be free of this city - and him."

Pullo stifled the smile at her admission; pleased to be reassured that the handsome Roman commander held no allure for her "well, we will be out on the road soon – but you will not survive it if you continue to harass the others."

She nodded "aye, mayhap you are right – none the less I wish to find myself outside the bloody confines of this goddess forsaken city sooner rather than later, and they are so _slow_."

"There is another reason as well is there not?" an ever attentive Vorenus also noted.

"Aye, you are right Lucius" she smiled at him and he returned it warmly; Pullo made a mental note to have a talk with his best friend, and soon.

"There _is_ another reason." Afia continued, dragging Pullo back to the present "It is simply this: Caesar was a very controlling leader; that in itself is no bad thing when he does the good he did for his people.

It all falls apart however when that type of leader, good or bad, dies suddenly and there is no one immediately in place to assume control."

She shrugged at the perplexed faces of those from their group who was around her and were now listening "a power struggle therefore ensues as various factions vie for control. It is the same in any tribe; sadly yours is incredibly large and encompasses many nations, the ramifications can spread far beyond Rome.

You have to bear in mind that nations absorbed into your culture by force, will now see Caesar's death as a chink in your armour that they may be able to exploit. Conflict will erupt once more in a lot of different places, and not just amongst your own people."

Timon and Vitus exchanged nods, the wench had it exactly. By Juno she would be a devil on any battlefield – the two really wondered how the Gauls had lost the war to Rome when they had such as she amongst them.

Lucius was thinking the exact same thing even as he replied "but young Octavius was named Caesar's successor; he even formally adopted the boy."

"Aye, and you think the men that murdered a man like Julius Caesar would care about _that?"_ she shook her head "come now Vorenus you are as much a man of the world as the others here, they can see the truth of what I am saying why cannot you?"

"What _are_ you saying?" he pressed.

"That they did not only wish to murder the _man_, but also his beliefs – they feared the changes he wished to bring. Why would they then allow someone like Octavius to rule knowing that Caesar picked the boy to follow him; thereby running the risk that, while the _man_ is gone, his ideals will remain?"

She smiled "also they are hardly likely to wish to bow to a boy who will want to avenge his kin folk's death, the humiliation of his family's honour, and most likely at their hands are they?"

Timon shook his head "of course they are not!"

"Then you have the last of your reasons why I wish to quit this city sooner rather than later….there will be a bloodbath, and of those I have had my fill for a time."

She looked up and, on seeing the gates finally come into view, visibly relaxed "and here freedom at last beckons us all. Let us leave the rest of them to their impending butchery and intrigues."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

They rode until they were finally on the outskirts of the lands they had been given and there they set camp. They would ride on and start work in earnest in the morning, but for tonight rest was the best thing for them all.

As they sat round the fire once more, Vorenus drew her out on her views of Roman politics "what say you of Mark Anthony, Afia? Surely he would protect Octavius?"

"Aye, he will – as long as his interests and the boy's run the same road. The minute a crossroad looms and the commander's fortunes take a different path, so Octavius will find himself abandoned; possibly even facing his old ally across a battlefield."

"But what of Caesar, Mark Anthony was fiercely loyal to him?"

"Aye that he was, and from what I gather he was well rewarded for it." She shook her head "Caesar is dead,my friend; best look forward and not back, not if you wish to continue breathing in this brave new world we have had thrust upon us."

Vorenus shook his head "your words chill my blood, Afia."

"So long it is only my words Lucius, and not the air we breathe as it spills on the ground, then I am content." She sighed and rested a hand on his arm "I have been given the responsibility of aiding all of you; I will not shirk it, for I gave my word. That means keeping you all alive, as much as I can; and if that is to include forewarning you of the storm I see coming, then so be it."

He picked her hand up and turned it over "such a little hand to hold such swords as I see at your back" his eyes drifted to where her heart lay "such a little chest to hold so large a heart" then, as his other hand grasped her free one and tugged her toward him, he ran his hand over her hair "and such a small head to hold so much knowledge of war and weapons."

Timon tapped Vitus on the arm and nodded to Pullo, sitting alert and stiffly to one side "there is a man in torment if ever I saw one" he whispered.

Vitus nodded "why does he not speak?"

"Feels he is not good enough for her."

Vitus shook his head "I reckon she would prefer our Pullo to Vorenus."

"Aye?" Timon raised his eyebrows, even though he felt the same.

"Aye, we all see the sparks between them."

"Ah, but there are sparks when she is with Vorenus too, albeit of a different kind; plus she is close to his girls and the boy. _Plus_ her old owners, who she thinks much of, like him too."

Vitus shook his head "my wife had to pick between me and my brother. She chose me she said afterward because I drove her mad and made her happy in equal measure, and so she knew life would never be boring.

Pullo is like that with our Afia; Vorenus is like my brother, kind, considerate and nice….just _too _nice, for her anyway – she needs the excitement Pullo could give her." He sighed "you know I reckon that Eireni would have been better for Vorenus."

Timon nodded "aye, mayhap you are right my old friend – but if Pullo is frozen with indecision and Vorenus makes a move, it may well be that she chooses safety over excitement purely because safety takes a chance."

"Do you think they would be happy?"

"Aye, I reckon – though content mayhap would be a better word; happy with Pullo, content with Vorenus. I reckon she would look back with Pullo and think "I have had a good life", and with Vorenus she would have been happy but have regrets."

"She certainly has Mark Anthony's dice marked" Vitus grinned, changing the subject.

"Aye that she has – she is a master tactician; shame she is not a man, we could do with more like her in the bloody army."

"The Gauls let their women fight though, do they not?"

"Aye, barbaric it can be if they are not trained right; mowing young wenches down is not to my taste – but most of them are like her; brutal bloody fighters, every bit as their men folk."

"I remember the war with Gaul – horrible it was" Vitus nodded with a shudder.

"All wars are mate, all wars are" Timon nodded and wandered away from the fire.

Elsewhere many were beginning to lay wagers on who would eventually win the affections of the fiery gallic harpy.


	7. Camp

**_Disclaimer: As chapter one, please don't keep making me write it out – life's too short and I get tired!_**

**_Both the poems, ''The Heart' and ''Never There', in this chapter were written by me. So you can all blame me for their lack of genius. :O _**

_**All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please; and I will try to update regularly.**_

'_**Thoughts'**_

"**Speech"**

_**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**_

**_ROME:_**

_**Passions**_

**_Chapter Seven – Camp_**

Afia sighed inwardly as she had had to stop herself rolling her eyes at Vorenus' soft words; she knew he meant well, but by the Gods it was insulting for him to imply that she was this soft maiden _forced_ into conflict, into understanding war and the weapons within it.

She stood with a too bright smile, thanked him and wandered over to Pullo, who had now moved to the outskirts of the little group; flopping down on the grass beside him she noted he moved slightly away; "what flea's biting your backside?" she leant and nudged his arm.

He couldn't help but grin "you have such a way with words, I wonder you do not become a poet."

She grinned back at him "aye, well I doubt the more _earthy_ odes I know would sit well with highbrow Roman hierarchy."

"What about lowbrow ones such as I?"

"Who told you?" she looked at him suspiciously.

He smirked "Decimus – he said you had many talents; singing, playing the lyre amongst others. But that the one that brought most tears to his eyes was your poetry."

She rolled her eyes heavenward "Aye, with mirth!" she sighed as Pullo shook his head with a disbelieving grin, adding "I could kill him; he always says too much."

"He wished to praise you, that is no fault." Pullo chided gently.

"It is when it is to you, and I know you'll not shut up until I play the bloody lyre or some such fancy!"

But he heard no malice in her voice, and decided to continue the jest "how do you know me so well in such a short time?"

"A skill?"

They both chuckled and then he nudged her shoulder "go on then, save me days of nagging and driving you mad."

She eyed him with some resignation "what would you have me do?"

He thought for a moment, the lyre was tempting – to see this warrior harpy playing such a thing, but he relented as they did not have one anyway.

He decided even if they did he might not live through the night if he made her, this time discretion was definitely the better part of valour "tell me a poem" he smiled finally "but it has to be one of your own."

"How do you know me so well and in such a short time?" she sighed theatrically as she repeated his earlier question, knowing he'd guessed she would recite some short roman ode.

"It's definitely a skill" he smiled "I wish to keep breathing, so I learn how not to vex you so much you kill me."

"But just enough to keep me wondering whether I should kill you or…." She stopped herself saying more and blushed, both a rare occurance for her.

"Or?" he nudged her again, the look on his face questioning.

"Naught……naught to bother yourself with."

"Where you are concerned I am always bothered" he muttered so softly he didn't think she'd heard, but her startled look unnerved him and he glanced round "who said that?"

"I think you did?" she arched an eyebrow, but a smile hovered.

"I like you Afia" he swallowed "a lot; we're friends are we not?"

She did smile then "aye that we are – even when I want to slit your throat like a pig, I am still your friend Pullo."

"Oh well, good then….I think." He paused for a beat "now, the poem?"

She sighed "well if it saves days of nagging, for Juno knows you could teach a shrewish wife a few things on that issue."

He gave a scandalised gasp which she ignored. Neither realised the attention they'd garnered as their voices had echoed a little round the clearing. All now were turning their attention to the couple, not least Vorenus, to listen to this poem Pullo kept on about.

"What one shall I tell you; a funny one, or one to make you shed a tear or two?"

"I doubt you would make an old warhorse like me weep" Pullo grinned.

"I think I shall test this old warhorse's resolve then" she smirked, rising to the obvious challenge. She thought for a moment and then smiled as she began:

"No matter how sad the future seems,  
Or how dark the sky above –  
Remember that a heart is out there,  
Looking for your love.

You will find it one day,  
When you are lost and low –  
A heart that takes you by the hand,  
And shows you where to go.

So turn your back on heartache,  
You are alone no more –  
A friendly heart is knocking,  
To take your hand once more.

To take you from the sorrow,  
To leave all tears behind.  
The heart and soul that calls to yours,  
Will always now be mine.

So let your heart keep looking,  
Allow your soul to see –  
The heart that yearns to love you,  
Belongs alone to me."

Her voice had softened in the telling, full of longing and hope; and many of the women and not a few men had moist eyes, Vorenus for his part sighed deeply as he thought of Niobe; he wondered if he could ever love another – but he knew he would love his darling wife always whatever happened in the future.

While Pullo had to clear his throat, for more than one reason Timon and Vitus guessed (the words being a little _too_ close to home), Pullo did not weep.

Afia frowned, not keen to lose the challenge "hmmm, mayhap I must try again…." She thought a moment more and then began another:

"The birds tell me I'm a sorry fool,  
To pine so for your love –  
To care for you in secret,  
To think you're a God sent from above.

I hold my breath when you are near,  
I long to feel your touch -  
You'll never know my soul is yours,  
That I love you very much.

The breeze whispers of my longings,  
Telling me to "seize the day" -  
To caste my doubts upon the wind,  
And follow my heart where 'ere it lay.

But I find I cannot do it,  
Though my soul leaps at your voice -  
To lay my heart before you,  
Is _not_ a simple choice.

So though I watch you from a distance,  
See your eyes flit everywhere –  
I know you never see me;  
To you, I'm never there."

This time nearly all were close to tears as the sadness in her soft voice echoed once more round the clearing, an obvious poem of unrequited love. Pullo too was not immune; not because the poem was particularly sad, but because it basically summed up his feelings for Afia – though he fought it, a single tear leaked out from his eye.

He fully expected her to leap up and crow her victory for all to hear. Instead, she leant over wiped the tear with her finger and, as she locked her gaze with his, she smiled and kissed his cheek. She stood then and walked off "a kiss for the victor; he did not weep" she smiled warmly at him "for once Titus Pullo bested me."

The Roman sat on the ground and realised why she'd done it; he was a soldier, a warrior and it would not do for his old comrades to know that he'd cried over a poem. He leapt to his feet, overcome with emotion, and swept her into a hug; she squealed in surprise and started laughing, even as he and the others did.

Throwing her over his shoulder, he strode away with Afia now hurling abuse at his head even as she pummelled his back – Vorenus scowled slightly. "What is it?" Decimus asked.

"She is just a wench; he should not treat her so."

"Afia is a lot more than that my friend; your comrade understands that, and so must you if you wish to retain her friendship.

Afia is a warrior first and a woman last – if you do not understand that, then you do not understand _her."_ Decimus smiled at the other man "she is not one for soft love and gentle words, well not all the time; she is passionate and fierce and she expects one she would love to be the same."

They watched Pullo parading her around the clearing as he slapped her bottom through the thin breeches that poked beneath her tunic. She squealed and continued to punch at his broad back, but Vorenus could see that she was laughing and did not mean it – finally Pullo strode off into the forest still toting the Gaul.

"Where are they going?" Vorenus continued to scowl.

"Well if you don't know, I wonder how you got your children!" One of the veterans called out, dissolving everyone into laughter.

If anything the Roman's scowl only grew "mayhap I should go see if she fares well?"

"Nay, leave them Vorenus – good Gods man, I don't think Pullo even can work that quick! They've barely left!" Another of the veterans shouted, not noting the murderous look that crossed the other man's face.

Timon, who'd seen it, came over and patted his friend on the shoulder "I doubt she will let him do aught she does not wish Lucius; she's a fly wench and she can fight with the best of them – have we not witnessed that ourselves?"

Reluctantly Vorenus nodded and dropped to the ground where he was – that way he could watch the gap they'd disappeared through and could ensure Afia returned safely. He realised he would have to have a talk with his friend Pullo, and soon.

He sighed and wished Niobe was there, she would know what to do. She was always calm and reasonable, always so kind and loving – he still wondered what possessed her to take her life as she did? She had seen him angry before, she must've have known he would not claim his right to kill her for her adultery?

He scrubbed his hands over his face – he could not think on that, not anymore; down that path lay madness. Afia was right, Niobe was gone and by her own hand; he would love her deeply for the rest of his life, but now he had to deal with the present and the future. He had to care for his daughters and her son.

He looked at the little boy running around with his girls; he wondered if he _could_ take the boy as his own, if any would tell the true story of his birth?

He sighed again and decided he would need to think on it, and then mayhap talk to Afia – she may be a bloodthirsty warrior as her old master said, but he could also tell she was also wise, reasonable and loving…..like Niobe.

As that first poem said there would be a heart to guide him, to help leave his heartache behind; he hoped that Niobe had sent him Afia to do that – that the Gaul would aid him live his life and care for his children….


	8. AUTHOR'S NOTE:

My mum has died and so I won't be posting chapters for a while. I'm very sorry to let you all down. I will update as soon as I'm able.


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